barking like nonsense vibrates through the window panes, through the taste of an ingested gnat. crime tape surrounds me but i prefer to love. flowers. puppies. golden august sunsets. name it. i’m not somber.
 
force driving is the follow this now. vroom things that go fast and spin around and grrgrr down into little starts and stops. little cacti plants are on the windowsill and my kitty cats dance on the counter top.
 
deer intestines untwisted hang on my clothesline still dripping blood and else. my precious little kitty, much like the marquis de sade, tortures a struggling no longer baby bird. my little black cat so comfortable on the banister. my heat seeking missile of a cat whose programming can take it right under my sheets 
        before exploding
so comfortable on the banister.
and unfettered by that little abducted girl in the news.  
still, i love the wavy tree and the cougar stalking me.